


all that you are is all that i'll ever need

by wnnbh12



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 19:32:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8413855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wnnbh12/pseuds/wnnbh12
Summary: A night in New Orleans when everything changes.  Kind of.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote 85% of this like nine months ago and finally got around to finishing it..
> 
> i recommend listening to tenerife sea by ed sheeran while reading this. i listened to it the entire time i wrote and edited, and it's strongly based off the lyrics.

Christen’s head is fuzzy. Not in a way that makes her want to go back to the hotel and sleep, but just enough that she's a little unsteady on her feet and needs to lean into Tobin a tad more.

 

Tobin accepts the extra weight without missing a beat. She’s sober and completely has her wits about her so she stands up straighter to support the added weight. She does it so effortlessly that she doesn't even mess up the flow of her words as she talks to Lindsey and Morgan. 

 

Christen’s following along, adding in her own comments when she has them, but mostly she just does what she does best. She observes. She listens. She watches the people in front of her and all the others surrounding.

 

She watches Tobin.

 

She’s always watching Tobin.

 

Sydney has been hyping up Abby’s retirement celebrations on Bourbon Street since the moment the game in New Orleans was announced. She’d sent out a mass group text as soon as they’d gotten the email and she hadn’t stopped blasting them since. She promised them a night so good they’d never remember it.

 

She wasn't wrong.

 

The only other time Christen has ever seen her teammates party this hard is when they won the World Cup, but this comes very, very close. Alcohol flows freely. Hips sway wildly. Voices are raised and slurred happily, so happily. Given the cause for celebration, there's a bittersweet undertone to it all that keeps threatening to break through, but they all just drown it with more drinks and the night goes on. 

 

Christen wasn't going to drink, maybe one or two, but she wanted to remember this, wanted to enjoy her time with her friends before a month apart. 

 

Well, maybe just one friend. 

 

Definitely just one friend. 

 

Tobin. 

 

Christen doesn't want to leave her. She doesn't want to go to opposite sides of the country and have to settle for long texts and lengthy FaceTime sessions ending in smiles that linger in Christen’s dreams. Her heart aches at the thought of be being away from Tobin for so long, but that's what happens sometimes. You have to spend time away from friends.

 

Friends. 

 

Christen’s begun to hate that word. 

 

They're more than that, so much more, but yet they aren't. They act like it, they talk like it, but they don't do anything about it yet. It's comfortable, this thing they have going on. It isn't forced. It isn’t work. It's nice. It's warm. It's safe. 

 

But Christen wants more. 

 

She hasn't strayed far from Tobin all night—hasn’t really strayed far from her for months. She told herself she would, told herself she'd hang out with Kelley and Julie and Whitney and not just limit herself to Tobin. She did for a while, bounced around between groups, laughed and sang and danced with her friends, but she keeps coming back to Tobin. She keeps sliding up next to her, slipping her hand into Tobin’s, and joining in on whatever conversation she's having with whoever Tobin happens to be with at the time. 

 

She just can't stay away. Tobin's like a beacon, a lighthouse luring her back into shore, her safe harbor. Christen isn't against it. Neither is Tobin. 

 

So she flits around, socializes with her increasingly drunk teammates for a while and then always finds her way back to Tobin’s side like she is now. It's inevitable, really.

 

Her limit of two drinks lasted all of thirty minutes when Kelley demanded she take tequila shots with her and everyone knows there's no saying ‘no’ to Kelley, especially when she’s already tipsy from pregaming in her room with Ali. Christen lost count of how many shots she made her take.

 

Well over two hours have passed since and multiple glasses of water, so Christen feels much better now, doesn't feel like she's going to throw up any longer, but there's still a burning in the back of her throat from that last shot she should have flat out refused and just dealt with Kelley’s incessant whining. Her head’s clearer, but she's still having a little trouble focusing her eyes and standing without wobbling. 

 

She feels Tobin’s eyes on her and then she squeezes Christen’s hand gently for a long moment.

 

Christen knows what it means, knows the silent question she's asking so she answers. She tugs on Tobin’s hand to get her attention, tilts her head towards the door once Tobin turns towards her. Tobin nods back once in answer and then she excuses herself from the conversation, though Morgan and Lindsey barely notice because they’re too busy arguing about how they would have matched up when UVA played UNC had Lindsey not gone to Paris.

 

She leads Tobin through the throng of people—teammates who smile drunkenly, random patrons who have no idea who they are and glare when they have to move out of their path, fans from the game whose eyes spark with recognition, but let them pass by with nothing more than friendly smiles.

 

It's colder outside than it was when they came in. A slight wind is furling down the street to bite at Christen’s bare arms and legs just enough so that it's uncomfortable. She's barely begun to shiver when Tobin drops her hand and unties the leather jacket she'd tied around her waist earlier. She drapes it over Christen’s shoulders with a smile that Christen knows better than to try and protest. 

 

Christen tries hard not to breathe in the familiar scent of Tobin that lingers on the jacket like it's woven into the inner lining, but she's just buzzed enough that she can't hold herself back. It's surprisingly floral, lilac from her shampoo and rose from her body wash (Christen knows because she snooped through Tobin’s hotel bathroom in Chattanooga.) There's also the ever present smell of the peppermints she sucks on during the bus rides before games. Then there's an undertone of the men’s deodorant she uses (because Tobin says the women’s brands are too overpriced and don't smell as good) and something that can only be the scent of Tobin’s skin itself, something that Christen swears smells like sunshine. 

 

If Tobin notices Christen tuck her nose into the collar for a moment and breathe in until she's dizzy from more than just one too many shots Kelley and Sydney insisted on, she doesn't say anything. 

 

“Thank you,” Christen tells her softly. 

 

Tobin simply hums in response and sucks in a breath. “It was hard to breathe in there,” she mumbles, but she isn't looking for a reply. 

 

Christen leans back against the brick wall of the bar, tilts her head back and closes her eyes, letting the sounds of the city at night surround her. The cacophony of thumping music from various bars up and down the street. A car honk a few blocks down and the higher pitched one that responds. An uproar of laughter pouring out from the bar across the street. The whooping and hollering from a rowdy group of college kids shuffling down the opposite sidewalk—it all fills her ears, calms her in a way that usually only silence does. 

 

She opens her eyes to see Tobin standing with her hands in her pants pockets, face turned up to the midnight sky like she can actually see the stars Christen knows are invisible.

 

Christen watches her.

 

She watches the way her sloped jaw clenches when she swallows, the way her long eyelashes flutter slowly as she blinks, the way her breath fogs just the slightest bit right when it comes out before it dissipates away, the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips for a moment before she looks back down to Earth and smiles over at Christen.

 

She’s so beautiful.

 

Tobin walks over and leans against the wall next to Christen, their shoulders pressed tightly together. Out of the corner of Christen’s eye, she sees Tobin look down and follow the path of her own fingers as they trace down the inside of Christen’s forearm that she never tucked into the jacket sleeve and across the thin skin of her wrist before they finally tangle loosely with Christen’s again, same as they have for practically the entire night. 

 

They've been passing it off as the buddy system they always use whenever the team goes out because it's effortlessly believed by everyone, but Christen knows (and she knows Tobin knows) that it's something more.

 

It's too intentional the way Tobin does it, like she's thought about it and planned it out in her head for a few moments before she actually does it. Christen doesn't mind. She likes the idea of Tobin thinking so painstakingly over something as simple as holding her hand. 

 

Tobin’s warm, lightly calloused hand has been there for Christen all night, every time she's reached out for it. It's been like a lifeline, pulling her back to shore when she starts getting too overwhelmed by the crowds and near-deafening music. All Christen needs to do is reach out her fingertips and Tobin’s hand is always wrapped with hers within moments. 

 

Tobin uses it as a line of communication.

 

Christen’s learned that a quick squeeze means Tobin’s just letting her know she's still there, that even if she's turned slightly away from Christen and having a conversation with someone else, she wants to remind Christen she isn't going anywhere.

 

A longer squeeze is her way of silently asking if she's okay, if she needs to step away for a breath. Tobin’s always looking for an answer to that one. A squeeze back or fingertips pressed into the crook of her elbow let Tobin know she's good while a tug on her hand means she needs a break. Tobin knows how easily overwhelmed Christen can get and so she uses this one much more than the others when they go out.

 

When Tobin curls the fingers of her other hand around Christen’s bicep, it means she wants her to lean in close so she can say something in her ear she doesn't want the rest of the world to know, something just for them.

 

It's like a secret, silent language they've made up for themselves and it makes the corners of Christen’s mouth tug up in a smile at the thought of having something that's just simply theirs. 

 

Tobin gives her a long squeeze now, eyes still glued on their intertwined fingers. 

 

Christen replies with both her own squeeze and three fingers pressed against Tobin’s elbow because Christen wants as much contact as possible and because she wants to feel the way Tobin’s pulse thumps beneath her fingertips, just slightly quicker than normal. 

 

Tobin doesn't ask what they're doing, doesn't ask why they're out here and not inside with their friends. She understands Christen needs a break and so she’s there to give it to her. Without complaint or questions, she leans her head back against the wall and watches the street life undulating around them. 

 

Christen doesn't know what makes her do it, doesn't know what gives her the idea, but she tilts her head so that it's resting on Tobin’s shoulder, the cotton of her white t-shirt warm against Christen’s cheek. She hears Tobin sigh, feels her shift to stand a little taller so Christen can rest her head more comfortably, not have to strain her neck as much. 

 

They spend a few quiet moments like that, just listening to each other breathe. Tobin breathes and all the noise around them fades away. It’s all Christen can focus on. They silently watch the world go on around them, not paying them any notice. 

 

Christen knows what this looks like to anyone passing by. The tangled fingers, the lingering hand on Tobin’s elbow, the gentle way Tobin rests her head against the top of Christen’s, the easy smile on Christen’s lips—there's nothing friendly about this, nothing casual. They crossed over the line of friendship months ago and now they're running wild in the no man’s land between what they left behind and the promise land of something more in front of them. 

 

They don't talk about it.

 

They don't even try. 

 

They just let it happen slowly, let it build until taking that final step is their only choice. They let their casual friendship evolve over the past year into something deeper. Then they let that deeper friendship evolve into whatever it is they are right now. 

 

It was never forced. It was never planned. They just let it happen.

 

They let getting coffee with Alex and Kelley in the mornings turn into getting coffee by themselves.

 

They let occasionally being warmup partners when everyone else was already paired up turn into seeking each other out every time they step on the pitch.

 

They let sporadic texts to see how the other was doing during prolonged time apart turn into a constant stream of messages that's only ever interrupted by sleep or calls that stretch on way longer than necessary because neither wants to be the one to hang up first.

 

They let borrowing a sweatshirt for a couple hours during movie nights in hotel rooms turn into stealing pieces of clothing with no intention of ever giving them back.

 

They let sprawling across each other’s beds while playing cards or board games during downtime turn into staying the night and tangling legs under the sheets because they don't want to say goodnight.

 

It crept up on them both, but it was never not welcomed.

 

It just made sense. 

 

Christen remembers when she first felt it, when she first realized what those butterflies in her stomach at the thought of Tobin meant. They were in a hotel room in Winnipeg with Tobin’s feet in her lap while they read separately, deciding to forego game night in Megan’s room in favor of the quiet company of each other. They'd done this more times than she could count at that point, but there was something about the way Tobin’s eyebrows creased together as she read a book Becky suggested and her eyes squinted the slightest bit despite the fact she was wearing her glasses that made Christen have to bite her tongue to stop herself from telling Tobin how beautiful she looked in that moment. Tobin was beautiful and after that she was the only thing Christen saw anymore. She had been for a while, but she kept it to herself.

 

That urge to tell her never went away, though. 

 

It only got worse because Christen started noticing things then.

 

The way Tobin’s eyes periodically searched for her when they were separated across the pitch or a crowded dining room.

 

The way Tobin’s touches were more frequent with her than they were with anyone else and how they lingered as if Tobin never wanted to pull her hands away.

 

The way Tobin had a smile reserved just for her—soft, closed lips and a little crooked, but reaching her eyes until they glowed a lovely color, the shade of warm honey.

 

The way whenever Tobin listened to Christen talk, nodding her head and following along with such interest, Christen always felt like she was saying the most important thing Tobin had ever heard in her life. 

 

Once she noticed, she knew there was no going back. 

 

She didn't mind. 

 

After several long minutes, Christen pulls her head away and looks over at Tobin. Her eyes trace the patterns of Tobin’s face that she committed to memory long ago and she wonders to herself if Tobin knows how beautiful she is.

 

She's sure people have told her that before, but she wonders if Tobin’s ever believed it. She wonders if someone has ever gone out of their way to prove to Tobin that she's as beautiful as they tell her she is. Tobin’s a very open person, but there are parts of her she keeps guarded, parts that Christen has loved getting to crack open. This is one of those pieces she hasn’t been able to break into, though.

 

Maybe it's the alcohol that does it.

 

Maybe it's the sweet anticipation that's been building between them for months.

 

Maybe it's the way Tobin’s thumb has started to trace patterns along the inside of Christen’s palm.

 

Maybe it's the way Christen can feel the slight uptick in Tobin’s pulse when Christen tucks her head in closer. 

 

Christen doesn't know, but suddenly, she can no longer keep the realization she had in Winnipeg to herself. 

 

She lifts her head, rests her chin on Tobin’s shoulder and lets her eyes move around all the contours of Tobin’s face for a moment until Tobin’s lips curl up into that special smile just for Christen. “Beautiful,” she whispers, voice dragging low.

 

The long breath that Tobin sighs out in response dances across Christen’s lips. Tobin leans forward to rest her forehead against Christen’s as her eyes flutter shut.

 

Christen knows better than to think anything is going to happen. She knows Tobin won't kiss her like this, on a crowded street in an unfamiliar city, outside a bar filled with their drunken teammates.

 

She knows nothing will happen, but she lets herself hope anyway.

 

She lets herself hope that the hand slipping around her waist has a deeper meaning than to simply pull her into a hug. She lets herself hope that Tobin tucking her head into the crook of her neck is going to lead them further than just holding each other. She lets herself hope that the desperate way Tobin clings to her is a more loaded gesture than it really is. 

 

“Thank you,” Tobin breaths across her neck and Christen has her answer. Tobin’s never believed all those other people. She's never believed how beautiful she is until right now in this moment and that angers Christen in a way she didn't know possible.

 

She finds herself furious with people she's never even met, people who were supposed to love Tobin the way she deserves and reassure her of all of her doubts. She wants to _scream_ at those people for taking for granted all that they had when Tobin decided to give them her time. She wants to shake sense into the people who were supposed to protect Tobin and didn’t.

 

Christen wants to be that person. 

 

She wants to show Tobin all the good things in this world and prove to her not everyone is out to break her heart like she's had happen in the past. She wants to convince her how wonderful she is and wipe away any doubt that she's anything less than what she really is, assure her she’s _so much more_.

 

God, does Christen want that. 

 

Christen doesn't know how long they stand like that, holding each other and letting her own shuddering heartbeat fill her ears and drown out all other noise, but suddenly there's a commotion behind her she can't block out and they reluctantly pull away. 

 

She turns around to see their teammates streaming out of the bar in clusters, laughing and smiling, most of them wobbling on their feet and leaning against each other for support.

 

Abby spots them before anyone else and walks over with a bigger grin than Christen’s ever seen on her.

 

“You didn't do it, Chris!” Abby slurs, her voice weighed down more by what tonight means for her than it is by the endless amount of free drinks she’s been supplied with.

 

Christen blushes and smiles sadly, amused by the way Abby’s grin keeps flicking on and off, her muscles too relaxed to remember how to hold themselves upwards. “I know, I know,” she laughs. “I tried, though.”

 

“You did!” Abby exclaims, the grin turns back on for the moment as she thrusts one fist in the air. “You _tried_.” She stresses the word so hard it almost sounds like a bark, but she presses on like she said it exactly how she meant. “You tried so damn hard and that's all that matters.” Her words are slow and choppy, a testament to how hard she has to think before she says them. She leans in and pulls Christen into a bone crushing hug that barely lasts a second before she's pulling away and turning towards Tobin, pointing right at her face, brushing her nose because her depth perception is shot to hell. “Tobin,” she grunts.

 

Tobin lets out an amused laugh and asks, “Yes, Abby?”

 

Abby’s quiet while she tries to remember what she was going to say, jaw wobbling open and closed until she finally figures out the words. “You were always my favorite New Kid,” she whispers like it's a secret before she turns suddenly on her heel and stumbles down the street, shouting for Sydney. 

 

“I heard her tell Lauren the same thing 30 minutes ago,” Tobin says once Abby’s too far away to hear. 

 

Christen turns back to Tobin with a grin that only grows wider when she sees the way Tobin’s eyes are lit up like the stars she was trying to find earlier. She’s happy—sincerely, truly happy for the first time in a while. She’s been dealing with so much lately. Lauren retiring, Amy unexpectedly getting pregnant and leaving her on the team without her two best friends, Alex leaving Portland for Orlando—it seems like everyone’s leaving her. The way she’s staring at Christen right now tells her that Tobin knows she isn’t going to leave her. She knows Christen isn’t going anywhere.

 

Christen wouldn’t dream of it.

 

She reaches out for Tobin’s hand again, already feeling colder without that line of contact. “If it makes you feel any better, you're _my_ favorite New Kid,” she says shyly.

 

Tobin blushes and her eyes flick down to Christen’s lips for a moment. “Good to know.” Her eyes go back up to meet Christen’s and they're a little darker now in the harsh light outside the bar. “Amy will be jealous. She always thought you liked her best.”

 

“Not really my type.” Christen shrugs. “I like brunettes. A little taller, lankier than Amy. Someone who doesn't complain when I press my cold feet against their calves for warmth at night.” She still doesn't know why she's saying it—so blatantly flirting—but she can't help herself.

 

Then Tobin’s eyes darken just a little bit more, her pupils dilate and suddenly Christen’s figured it out.

 

She wants Tobin to keep looking at her like that, desire etched within her every feature. She never wants Tobin to stop looking at her like that for the rest of her life.

 

Suddenly, Christen’s tired of playing it safe. She's tired of taking it slow. She wants Tobin in a way that feels like it's encoded in her DNA. It feels ethereal the way she craves Tobin. They've been denying themselves what they both know is inevitable and Christen has loved every second of getting to know Tobin slowly and organically, but she's ready for more. She's _been_ ready for a while now and she's done pretending she isn't. 

 

She wants to tell her, wants her to know, wants to kiss her, wants to do _so much more_ , but not here. Not here for the same reason Tobin wouldn't kiss her minutes ago. They deserve better than this moment. They owe it to themselves to be careful with the details. 

 

Tobin’s eyes are back on Christen’s lips when they hear Lauren shout behind them. 

 

“Tobs, Chris! We're moving on, you guys coming?”

 

Lauren’s as sober as can possibly be, just as she always is when they go out. She's always the one to watch over everyone. She’s the chauffeur, carting around drunk teammates in team issued vans as the eternally designated driver. She's the mother, taking care of the teammates who always drink a little too much to the point they can no longer take care of themselves. She's the therapist, listening and nodding as their teammates who are emotional drunks rant on about someone who broke their heart in high school even though they haven't thought of them in years when sober. The field trip chaperone, making sure all her kids are herded together and no one gets left behind. The bodyguard, stepping in between teammates and too drunk guys with bad intentions. The voice of reason, convincing them that dancing on the bar definitely isn't a good idea no matter how much they think it is.

 

There isn't a role she hasn't taken on for them over the years and that's certainly something they'll miss. But they'll miss Lauren as the person she is when they’re sober—simply just kind, warm, motherly, loving Lauren—so much more.

 

Tobin looks to Christen for a response and when she sees her shake her head almost imperceptibly, she looks relieved, like she wants to continue where they were headed before Lauren interrupted just as much as Christen does. “We’re good. We'll catch up later,” she shouts back. 

 

Lauren hesitates, looks them both over. 

 

“I’m good, Chen. I haven't been drinking at all,” Tobin answers, clearly knowing her best friend well enough to know what her concerns are. 

 

Lauren’s wise eyes linger on Tobin for a second longer—her eyebrow raises when she glances down to their linked hands—before she accepts this with a nod. She waves at them both and then turns around to tend to her herd once more. 

 

“Do you want to go back to the hotel?” Tobin asks softly, index finger tapping on the back of Christen’s hand. 

 

“No,” Christen whispers, turning back to Tobin, taking a step closer. 

 

“Do you want to go with everyone else?”

 

Christen shakes her head. 

 

Tobin looks at her curiously, tilts her head in a way that causes the hair thrown over her shoulder to fall down her back, revealing her smooth neck and the top of her collarbone that Christen spends a dangerous amount of time thinking about running her teeth across. 

 

“What do you want to do then?” The way she asks it tells Christen that she'd agree to whatever she wanted. Tobin would go anywhere, do anything. All Christen has to do is say the word and Tobin would go along willingly. 

 

Christen feels dangerous having that kind of power, but deep down she loves it. Loves the reassurance that Tobin will always be there. 

 

“Walk with me?” Christen asks. She's had enough of overcrowded bars with blaring music and an overpowering scent of beer and sweat. She wants to end this night quietly. Most importantly, she wants to end it with only Tobin.

 

“Of course,” Tobin says with an easy grin. The way she says it makes it clear that Christen didn't even need to ask. It just further confirms Christen’s theory that Tobin's up for anything so long as she's with her.

 

Christen sets off in the opposite direction that the team went, towards the river and the quieter streets. For a few minutes, they don't talk, just hold onto each other’s hands and walk slowly, eyes wandering around and taking in everything around them. They aren’t taking a direct path. They’re turning down streets that aren’t necessary and then turning back the right way at the end, any way to prolong this time together as much as possible.

 

Once they're off the busier streets, walking down a side street lined with closed shops and a 24-hour diner with a neon sign that turns the sidewalk pink, Tobin speaks softly. 

 

“What didn't you do?”

 

“What do you mean?” Christen asks, confused by the question and wracking her brain for what Tobin could be talking about. 

 

“Abby said you didn't do it,” she explains. “What didn't you do?”

 

Christen laughs lightly as the earlier interaction dawns on her, smiles at the moment in question with their weathered and weary captain. “When I subbed in for her, I told her ‘congratulations’ and she said ‘thank you.’ Then she told me to ‘go fucking score.’”

 

The laugh that bubbles from Tobin’s lips is something Christen wishes she could bottle up and save for a rainy day. She’s torn between wanting Tobin to always laugh like that and wanting it to never happen again so that it's preserved for just this moment between the two of them that no one else will ever be able to hear.

 

She thinks she could listen to Tobin laugh for hours. 

 

She'd be more than willing to test that theory. 

 

The remnants of the laugh hang onto Tobin’s words as she speaks again. “Of course that's what she said.”

 

“I expected nothing less. I just wish I could've done it.”

 

“But you _tried_.” Tobin stresses the word like Abby had earlier, too much weight and too much volume behind it. It makes Christen giggle. “I don't know, I don’t think you were ever meant to score. None of us were. It feels kind of poetic we lost,” Tobin sighs. 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“We started the year with a loss, we reached the pinnacle in the middle, and now we're ending the year with a loss. It's like we've come full circle.” Tobin weaves them through a small group of college kids spilling out from a noisy restaurant, smiling at the way the people are laughing happily.

 

“I guess that's a pretty good way to look at it.” Christen can tell there's more. Tobin has started fiddling with the hem of her shirt with her free hand, picking at a loose thread that isn't there. Christen stays quiet and lets her work it out. 

 

“It's kind of like the end of an era, I guess,” Tobin finally says. “Abby’s leaving. Boxxy, Lori and Cheney have already left. Younger players are being brought it. It's like one version of this team is over and starting next year, a new version will take its place.”

 

“You've seen this before,” Christen observes. There’s a nostalgic tone to Tobin’s voice that makes Christen feel uneasy. Something’s going on in Tobin’s head that worries Christen.

 

Tobin’s been acting weird lately, more so than usual.

 

It’s typical for Tobin to get restless. She can be found dribbling the ball up and down hotel halls at all hours whenever she’s bored or the mood strikes her to move. She hardly ever makes it through movie nights and more than once Christen has woken up in the middle of the night to an empty bed, knowing that Tobin’s wandering somewhere.

 

Getting lost in her thoughts isn’t weird for her either. She’ll trail off in the middle of a sentence, stare at nothing and ignore when people call her name, focus on the ball at her feet so much that she doesn’t realize Jill blew the whistle on practice long moments ago.

 

Tobin acting weird is synonymous with Tobin acting normal.

 

Christen’s noticed an increase in her oddities lately, though. She’s lost track of how many times she’s had to shake Tobin’s shoulder or wave a hand in front of her face to get her attention. It’s been weeks since the last time she stayed over in Tobin’s bed and woke up in the morning to find Tobin still next to her. She leaves dinner earlier than anyone else almost every night and has started to spend her off time taking walks alone instead of napping or playing games like most people.

 

Christen hasn’t asked about it. She knows when Tobin’s ready to talk then she will. She just enjoys her time with Tobin when she’s around and tries to act like it doesn’t bother her when she’s not.

 

“Yeah, a few times. Things change and you’ve got to change with them. That’s what happens when you get old on this team,” Tobin says wryly. 

 

Christen rolls her eyes and knocks shoulders with Tobin. “You’re not old,” she insists.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Believe what you want.”

 

Tobin swings their arms between them loosely, smiling up at the sky like she shares a secret with the moon, then smiling over at Christen like she’s in on it too. 

 

“Does it make you nervous?” Christen asks, steering Tobin down another street, one she knows leads right to the water. “Knowing that everything’s about to change?”

 

“Not really.” Tobin shrugs. “I'm excited to see what the team will look like next year. Good or bad, it'll be fun.”

 

“You always did like a challenge,” Christen teases. 

 

“Like you don't.”

 

The streets are even quieter now. Aside from a couple on the opposite sidewalk, hurrying and giggling like they’re headed somewhere important, no one else is on this street. The air is chillier now that they’re only a block or so from the water. Christen’s even more grateful for Tobin’s jacket now even though she’s only half wearing it. She’s worried Tobin might be cold without it, but she doesn’t seem fazed.

 

Christen’s more sure of her steps, no longer worried about stumbling. That doesn’t mean she stops herself from leaning into Tobin, though. She enjoys being so close to the girl too much for that.

 

They don’t say anything the rest of the walk to the water, just listen to the soft shuffling of their feet and a trumpet pleating somewhere off in the distance, notes getting carried away by the breeze just before they’re able to reach them in full.

 

It’s nice like this, just the two of them. It’s all Christen wants, really. The soft, easy moments between them without expectations. No one wants anything from them. They aren’t expected anywhere anytime soon. They don’t have training early the next morning.

 

It’s just them.

 

The way it should be.

 

The way Christen always wants it to be.

 

Christen says Tobin’s name softly, smiling at the way she only hums in response. “Will you promise me something?”

 

“Anything,” Tobin replies without hesitation.

 

Christen stops walking. Tobin turns to eye her curiously, tilting her head in the way she does that makes Christen’s heart flutter. She wants to remember this moment. She wants to keep forever in her mind the image of Tobin with her hair fluttering around her face in the breeze, moonlight forming a halo around her head, eyes bright and warm. This is her favorite version of Tobin. She’s here. She’s open.

 

She’s hers.

 

The way Tobin looks right now, that’s all Christen ever needs in her life. It’s more than enough. If this picture of Tobin were to be the last thing Christen ever sees in her life, she swears she’d be okay with that.

 

“You said things are changing and we’re going to have to change with it.” Christen brings her other hand up to drum her fingers along the back of Tobin’s hand she’s already holding. “Promise me that this won’t change, though. Promise me we won’t change.”

 

Tobin tugs on her hand, pulls her in closer. There’s fear in her eyes, like she’s worried she’ll say the wrong thing. Like she understands the weight of what it is Christen’s asking her and she doesn’t want to mess it up.

 

“I don’t think I can promise that.” She stops Christen from protesting with a gentle finger on her lips. She drags it slowly across the bottom one before she pulls her hand away, eyes darkening when Christen’s breath hitches at the contact. “I can’t promise things won’t change with us, because I want them to.”

 

It takes Christen a moment to realize what she really means. It’s long enough for a sick feeling of dread to seep into her brain and let her momentarily believe that she really has been making all this up. Tobin’s there to ease her mind, though, just as she always is. 

 

She brings her hands to Christen’s face gently, tilting her head down the slightest bit so their eyes are level. “I’m sorry, I could have phrased that a little better.” She laughs softly, soft brown eyes flicking down to Christen’s lips for a long moment. “I meant that in a good way, I swear. I meant it in the best way. I don’t want to stay stagnant in this limbo we’re in. I _want_ that to change. I want more. Everything else about us, that I can promise you won’t change. But in general, yeah. I’ll welcome that change with open arms.”

 

Christen smiles, closes her eyes and lets that familiar sense of calmness that always comes with being in Tobin’s presence wash over her. She almost doesn’t open her eyes again because she knows Tobin’s eyes will be on her lips and she doesn’t think she trusts herself enough to have to see that yet again tonight. Tobin’s whisper makes her change her mind.

 

“I’m sorry I made you worry.”

 

“Don’t be,” Christen says. “I was just being anxious as always.” A nervous hand scratches at the back of her neck and she forces herself to make eye contact with Tobin, with those deep brown eyes that have begun to feel like home. It’s a struggle to make her eyes focus on Tobin’s—tequila still persistent in her veins—but when she does, she feels instant comfort.

 

“Come on,” Tobin tells her softly. “I have an idea.”

 

Tobin takes her hand again and Christen allows herself to be led to the end of the street, to the long expanse of sidewalk that lines the water, weathered and traffic worn bricks smooth under their feet. It’s so much brighter here. The street lights reflect off the Mississippi River and give the place an eerily empty feel, like a deserted football stadium with the floodlights on. It feels familiar, comfortable.

 

Tobin keeps walking until they’re in the middle of the brick sidewalk where she stops abruptly and turns around to face Christen with an easy grin.

 

“Dance with me.”

 

Tobin brings her free hand to Christen’s waist, underneath her own leather jacket, and raises the one holding Christen’s to about shoulder height, tucking their hands between their chests.

 

Christen’s heart pounds.

 

She starts to tell Tobin there’s no music, that it would be crazy to dance here like this, but then Tobin starts humming, something soft and slow that Christen can’t name, but instantly falls in love with. She’s nervous, feels a little silly even, but Tobin’s fingertips are warm on her waist and her breath is ghosting across her cheek.

 

Christen brings her other hand to Tobin’s chest, high enough so the placement isn’t suggestive, but low enough that she can feel Tobin’s heart racing underneath the bottom of her palm. She knows she has control over that heart rate. She learned that weeks ago when she had her head on Tobin’s chest and heard her heart speed up the lower her hand eased down Tobin’s ribs.

 

She should feel awkward. She should feel uncomfortable. She’s dancing to no music in the middle of an unfamiliar city on an empty street well into the early hours of the morning. This definitely isn’t the kind of thing she does. Spontaneity isn’t really her strong suit and even though there’s no one on the sidewalk with them, public gestures like this aren’t exactly her style.

 

Here she is, though.

 

Tobin makes her do things she usually wouldn’t. She pushes her out of her comfort zone. She challenges her. She makes her think about things she usually wouldn’t. Makes her feel things she’s never felt.

 

Christen doesn’t mind.

 

She thrives in the way Tobin encourages her to expand herself.

 

“This is nice,” Tobin whispers, her forehead resting against Christen’s temple. She’s still humming in Christen’s ear and Christen swears she’s never heard a sound so beautiful.

 

They're not really dancing so much as they're swaying, holding each other tightly and moving in time to whatever song Tobin’s got stuck in her head, but then Tobin decides to change that.

 

She backs away a step and lifts one of her arms motioning for Christen to twirl. Christen’s reluctant, but the broad smile on Tobin’s face convinces her, and so she twirls, giggling all the while. Tobin pulls her back in and dips her with a strong arm behind her back and a hand across the flat plane of her stomach. When she uprights them again, she stands in an exaggerated ballroom dancing pose and pulls them around in a poor attempt at a waltz, but Christen follows right along, the butterflies in her stomach fluttering in time with their feet. 

 

After a minute or so, Tobin stops. She takes an exaggerated bow towards Christen and then pulls her back in close and they continue swaying like before. 

 

“You're crazy,” Christen says breathlessly into Tobin’s ear. 

 

“Your fault.” Tobin’s grin is evident in her voice. 

 

Christen’s heart is beating so loudly in her ears that she can barely hear the river lapping just a few feet away. Her head’s spinning with how much she wants Tobin and she feels more drunk than she has all night.

 

She's in love with Tobin.

 

So in love.

 

They're not even together, not officially, but Christen thinks she's loved Tobin for a long time. She wants to tell her, wants Tobin to know just how much she means to her, but she stops herself. It's too fast, too soon considering they haven’t so much as kissed. Christen’s waited over a year to kiss Tobin, she can wait a while longer to tell her she loves her. 

 

Christen tilts her head back so she's able to look at Tobin. God, is she beautiful. Her skin is practically glowing from the combination of moonlight and street lights and she has this lazy smile on her face that’s reserved just for Christen. Her eyes are bright, warm and inviting and suddenly all Christen wants to do is see them close as she tilts her head in to press her lips to Tobin’s. 

 

She wants to do it and so she does. 

 

She moves slowly, not wanting to rush this, though after waiting a year, rushing isn't exactly the word that comes to mind. She brings a hand to Tobin’s cheek, runs her thumb along her sharp jaw line. Tobin sucks in a breath. Her eyes go dark and her grip on Christen’s waist tightens.

 

This is happening. Holy shit, this is actually happening. Christen’s wanted this for so long she can't ever remember a time when she didn't want to kiss Tobin. She's lost so much sleep over this, mind racing thinking of how this very moment would go and now it's here. This isn't even close to all the scenarios Christen cooked up in her head, but she thinks that's the beauty of it. Just like everything else, this isn't scripted or planned. It simply happens the way it's meant to.

 

Christen’s eyes have just started to flutter closed when Tobin’s soft voice cuts through the silent anticipation. 

 

“Don't.”

 

Christen jerks away crestfallen. She was so sure Tobin wanted this, so sure this was okay. Her eyes search Tobin’s face for any hint of what she could've misjudged. When Tobin’s smile turns sympathetic, Christen’s stomach drops. Is it possible she's entirely misjudged this whole thing? Does Tobin even want her at all?

 

Tobin must see the cogs turning in Christen’s head, the doubt creeping in. She leans forward and presses a long kiss to Christen’s cheek, dangerously close to her mouth. She's smiling that soft smile for Christen when she pulls away. 

 

“I want this, I promise you. I just don't want it like this.” When Christen looks at her curiously, she continues. “You're still a little drunk and we're both sweaty and gross from the bars. It sounds cliche as hell, but I want this to be perfect with you and I don't think that's right now.”

 

Christen doesn't know if she agrees. This moment does feel perfect to her. It's unplanned and romantic. It's like something right out of one of those cheesy movies Alex and Ali always make them watch. And on top of that, she certainly isn't still drunk. She tells Tobin as much, but she only laughs. 

 

“You know you're not the best judge of how drunk you are if you remember that night in Vancouver.”

 

Christen turns red, knowing Tobin is right. After the World Cup win, she may or may not have tried to convince Tobin she could run faster in her heels than Tobin could in her sandals. Tobin had amused her and gone along with it, not even competing in the race and just pacing Christen because she knew how drunk Christen still was even if she swore she wasn't. It's a good thing she did because when Christen went stumbling, Tobin was there to catch her before she hit the pavement. 

 

Yeah, Tobin is definitely right.

 

“As cute as you are like this with your sleepy eyes and slow voice, I don’t want it to happen like this, okay? When I kiss you for the first time, I want to taste you. I don’t want to taste tequila.”

 

Christen groans. If hearing Tobin talk about kissing her is having this much of an effect on her then she knows she won’t stand a chance when they actually do kiss. “You’re killing me,” she complains.

 

“Sorry.” She leans away slowly and Christen has a feeling it’s so that she isn’t as tempted. If Christen tried a little harder, she thinks she could get Tobin to cave, but she doesn’t because she knows she’s right. They do deserve the perfect moment. Christen hates waiting any longer, but she’s willing to. “I just want you to remember it, that’s all.”

 

“I promise you there’s no way I’d ever forget it.”

 

Tobin grins mischievously and pulls Christen in closer until their noses are almost brushing. Christen’s throat goes dry and her eyes flutter closed. “You’d remember that we kissed,” Tobin says slowly, voice low and smooth. “You’d remember that it was a really good kiss, maybe you’d remember that it was a really great kiss, but I want you to remember absolutely everything. I don’t want there to be a shadow of a doubt that you remember every single detail.”

 

Christen’s sure Tobin can hear her heart racing or at the very least feel it beating against her sternum through the jacket. Christen makes no effort to control it. She can taste the strawberry gum Tobin was chewing earlier on her breath and she’s trying so hard not to think about how much she wants to taste it fully on her tongue. She thinks she wants it more than she’s ever wanted anything in her life.

 

Tobin swallows hard and continues. “I want you to remember the way I sigh in relief into your mouth when I kiss you for the first time because I’ve been waiting for this for so long. I want you to remember the way your knees go weak and I have to wrap my arms around your waist to help you stand. I want you to remember the way your toes curl because you never knew a kiss could feel so good. I want you to remember the way my tongue tastes when it rolls over your lips for the first time. I want you to remember the way your breath hitches when I bite on your bottom lip. I want you to remember the way you can feel your heart beating all the way in your fingertips because it’s racing so quickly. Most importantly, I want you to remember the way you forget about every single other person who’s ever kissed you before me because none of them can even compare.”

 

Christen knows right then and there that Tobin Heath is going to be the death of her.

 

She wants an award for being strong enough to not close the distance between them. Words about something as simple as a kiss have never before turned her on so deeply. With Tobin’s voice the way it is, low and mumbly, Christen’s pretty sure Tobin could read a weather report and she’d still be turned on. She wants to hear her name in that voice. She wants to hear Tobin say impossibly dirty things in that voice. She wants to make that voice go silent when she touches Tobin for the first time and every time following.

 

She really needs to stop thinking before she does something stupid.

 

“You—” Christen barely gets the word out before her voice becomes too thick. She swallows and tries again. “You think very highly of yourself.” She doesn’t even recognize her own voice. It’s so thin and strained. She has to put in so much of an effort to say such simple words. She’s never been this bad.

 

“Trust me, darling,” Tobin grins. “It’s not just wishful thinking.”

 

“Darling?”

 

Tobin grins. “What, you don’t like that?”

 

“No, I do. It’s nice, I’ve just never had someone call me that before.”

 

Tobin leans in closely to Christen’s ear and whispers, “Good, because I plan to do all kinds of new things with you.”

 

Christen groans again as a shiver rolls down her spine. She can’t stop herself from arching slightly into Tobin. “You’re killing me even more now,” she whines.

 

“Sorry.” The way she’s smirking says that she definitely isn’t. She likes very much knowing she has such an effect on Christen. “I promise it will be worth it, but let me take you out first. Let’s have a real first date and do this the boring traditional way.”

 

“Who says I’m the type of girl who kisses on the first date?” Christen challenges, wanting to get the upperhand back somehow.

 

“Fine then, I’ll kiss you after the second date. I’m okay with waiting until the twelfth date if you really want me to, but I sincerely hope you don’t do that to me.”

 

“I suppose second date is acceptable.” Christen shrugs nonchalantly.

 

“You want to head back to the hotel? You look sleepy.” Tobin runs a hand up and down Christen’s side, creating a maddening friction along her ribs.

 

“Only if you go with me,” Christen bargains.

 

“You really think I’m going to leave you to walk back by yourself? What kind of girl do you think I am?” Tobin feigns offense.

 

“The type of girl who won’t kiss a girl no matter how much the other girl wants her to.”

 

Tobin laughs and presses a smirk to Christen’s cheek, safely away from her lips this time, but it still has the same frustrating effect on Christen. “Fair enough. Come on drunky, let’s get you to bed.”

 

“So you’ll take me to bed, but you won’t kiss me?”

 

“You’re never going to let me live this down are you?” Tobin slips her hand back in Christen’s and leads them back down the way they came in the direction of the hotel.

 

“Not until you actually kiss me.” Christen nods decisively. “And I am not that drunk.”

 

Tobin’s only response is a laugh.

 

Their walk back to the hotel is more direct than their walk to the water. They still go slowly like they’ve got all the time in the world, but they don’t turn down any unnecessary streets. They let a comfortable silence settle over them and instead listen to the increasingly growing surrounding noise as they get deeper into the city.

 

Christen gets a text from Julie at the same time Tobin gets one from Lauren, both asking where they are and if they’re meeting back up. They know they must be the talk of their more sober friends, but they don’t mind. They type out their replies quickly, knowing that the similarities of the messages and the fact they’re going back to the hotel alone will result in their friends making their own deductions about what that means, but they decide to let them think what they want. They aren’t technically wrong and at this point Christen and Tobin are both done pretending like there isn’t something going on between them. Let everyone else figure it out as well.

 

Once they’re back at the hotel, stepping off the elevator and heading down the hall towards Christen’s room, Tobin breaches the silence between them.

 

“When’s your flight tomorrow?”

 

“11:40. When’s yours?” She fumbles around in the pockets on her dress to find her room key.

 

“11:40. I hear LA’s nice this time of year,” she says casually.

 

Christen’s head jerks up just as her fingers curl around her keycard. Her face lights up when she sees the way Tobin’s smiling at her and she knows she heard her right about coming to LA. “You’re coming home with me?”

 

“No, I’m coming home with Amy, but I guess I can see you too.”

 

Christen pouts. “Jerk.”

 

Tobin makes up for it by brushing her fingers across Christen’s cheek and making her swoon. “Of course I’m coming home with you. I’m not ready to leave you yet. If you’ll have me, that is.” Tobin lets her fingers trail down the side of Christen’s neck before she pulls her hand away.

 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

“Good, because I already bought my plane ticket last week.”

 

Christen definitely didn’t see that coming. “Seriously? Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

Tobin seems shy suddenly. She looks down as she fiddles with the zipper on her jacket that’s still around Christen’s shoulders and heat rises to her cheeks. She’s mumbling when she finally responds. “I don’t know, I thought it would be cute to show up to your gate at the same time and surprise you.”

 

“Well aren’t you just romantic.”

 

Just like the flip of a switch, Tobin has her confidence back suddenly and she’s smirking as she makes eye contact again. “Oh yes, it’s one of my most defining character traits. You have no idea what you’re getting in for.”

 

“I think I’m okay with that.” Christen swipes the card in the lock and props the door open with her foot. “Stay with me tonight? Syd’s staying in Dom’s room.”

 

“That’s very suggestive.” Tobin waggles her eyebrows until Christen smirks.

 

“Shut up, I just want to hold you tonight. I’m not ready to leave you yet.”

 

“Hey! You can’t use my own words against me. That’s like stealing or something.” She may be offended, but she follows Christen into her room anyway, she doesn’t even pause for a moment.

 

Christen lets Tobin in the bathroom first to change and brush her teeth with the extra toothbrush Christen always brings along strictly for Tobin’s use when she stays over. She uses the bathroom to change after Tobin, not trusting herself or Tobin to hold back with the exposure of that much skin in front of each other. She comes back to the room to see Tobin already in Christen’s bed, sheets pulled up high to cover the Stanford shirt Christen gave her that she reluctantly accepted only after Christen insisted it was the only other clean shirt she had left. She didn’t miss the way Tobin smelled the fabric briefly the same way Christen smelled Tobin’s jacket, wanting as much of that personalized scent as possible.

 

She slides into bed next to Tobin, who—after turning off the lamp—instantly curls around her, resting her head on Christen’s shoulder and wrapping a long arm around Christen’s waist. It was alarming for Christen the first time they laid like this, how easily Tobin fit into her side. There was no extra period for adjustment, they didn’t need to maneuver their limbs to slot together perfectly. Tobin simply rolled into Christen’s side and they worked.

 

Just like everything else with them until this point, it was easy.

 

Christen brings up a hand to run her fingers through Tobin’s hair slowly, something she knows always lulls her to sleep. “Can I ask you something?” She’s has something on her mind that’s been bothering her for a while and she feels like tonight has brought them to a new point in their relationship that she isn’t hesitant to ask anymore.

 

“Only if you stop playing with my hair so I don’t fall asleep on you.”

 

Christen does as she says, opting to trace patterns on Tobin’s back instead. “Are you sad?” She asks simply.

 

Tobin pulls her head away so she can look up at Christen, the whites of her eyes barely visible in the dark room. “What would I have to be sad about?”

 

“Everything. Lauren’s retiring, Amy’s pregnant and leaving, Alex is going to Orlando, I know you weren’t happy with Portland’s season and had a lot of stress because of it. You’ve had a lot going on lately and you’ve kinda been distancing yourself, which I understand, but I want you to know I’m here if you need me.”

 

Tobin rolls over and reaches up to turn the lamp next to the bed back on. When she looks back to Christen, her eyes are pained and filled with more concern than Christen has ever seen in them. Christen instantly feels bad for pushing things maybe too far than Tobin was ready for.

 

She’s ready to apologize when Tobin beats her to it.

 

“Have I made you feel like I don’t need you? Because Christen, I promise you that isn’t true and I’m so sorry if I have. Lauren always tells me I’m bad about taking time to myself and not asking for help, but I didn’t mean to do that with you, I’m sorry.”

 

“No, no, please don’t apologize. I’m not trying to whine about being ignored or anything, I’ve just been worried about you.”

 

Tobin’s quiet. She lets her forehead rest against Christen’s shoulder as she plays with the hem of Christen’s shirt. Christen lets her think through it, playing with her hair again while Tobin takes her time. Christen wishes Tobin would talk through whatever’s going on in her head with her instead of silently working through it herself, but she leaves her to it, not wanting to pry before Tobin’s ready.

 

If Christen’s learned anything over the past year it’s that Tobin’s an open person, but only when she wants to be. Sometimes it takes a little persuasion to make her comfortable enough to open up. Christen gives her that time, waiting patiently until Tobin finally speaks again.

 

“I’m not allowed to be upset about all that. Lauren’s retiring to start a family. Amy’s taking time off to expand hers. Alex is leaving to be with her husband. Those aren’t situations I’m allowed to be upset about. That would be selfish of me.”

 

Christen’s heart breaks at the pain in Tobin’s voice. She’s trying so hard to seem like everything isn’t affecting her, but it is and keeping it all bottled up just makes it even worse. Christen hates knowing how long Tobin’s been dealing with this internally when all the while she’s been smiling on the outside, acting like everything was okay.

 

“Tobin, sweetheart, you’re allowed to be upset by the situation. That doesn’t make you selfish and it doesn’t mean you’re upset with your friends. It’s okay to be sad about what’s happening and yet still be happy for them.”

 

“I’m afraid this is going to force me to realize some things that I may not like about myself,” Tobin says timidly.

 

“What could you possibly learn about yourself that you wouldn’t like? You’re the best person I’ve ever met. I love absolutely everything about you, so I find it hard to believe there’s anything bad in there.”

 

Tobin’s eyes spark at the word ‘love,’ but she doesn’t try to bring it up. “I’m afraid that I’m going to learn I’m not as strong as I think I am. I’m afraid I’m too dependent on my friends on the team and now that they’re gone, I’m not going to know what to do with myself. I’m afraid I’m not any good at being alone.”

 

“Oh, Tobin.” Christen extends her arms and pulls Tobin into a tight hug, rolling over on top of her in favor of a more comfortable position. She holds Tobin for a while, listens as her shuddering breaths even out again as the threat of tears goes away. Only then does she pull back and hold herself above Tobin with a hand on either side of her shoulders. “You are so much stronger than you know. I’ve seen it firsthand. Being dependent on people isn’t a bad thing. Everyone needs people they can depend on. I think you’ve shown so many times that you’re able to be independent when you need to be, though. I mean you went all the way to Paris not knowing anybody and you did so well. You’re going to be okay. And besides, you aren’t alone. Allie and Mana are still in Portland. Alex is still on the national team with you. I’m still here with you.”

 

That last part gets a smile out of Tobin as she pulls Christen back down into a hug, somehow tighter than the first one. Tobin has both hands fisted into Christen’s shirt as she holds her, seemingly wanting her as close as possible. Christen wishes she could just keep getting closer.

 

“I’m not going anywhere, Tobin,” she whispers into the shell of her ear. “I promise I’ll always be here for you.”

 

“Please don’t make me promises you can’t keep,” Tobin begs in that soft voice from before.

 

Christen pulls away and looks Tobin right in those deep brown eyes she's come to love so much. She brings a hand to either cheek and runs her thumbs over the soft skin. She needs Tobin believe her, wants to press her words into her brain so she never forgets them. 

 

“Tobin, I _promise_ you I'm not going anywhere. I have absolutely no intention of ever leaving you. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily,” she finishes with a wry grin. 

 

Tobin’s not smiling, though. She's letting Christen’s words sink in, eyes dancing across every inch of Christen’s face before they stop on her lips and don’t leave. Tobin licks her lips and Christen’s shudders to think what that tongue might taste like between her own lips. Tobin’s breath quickens and Christen is just noticing the way Tobin’s eyes have gone dark when she speaks again.

 

“I need us to go to sleep right now or else I’m going to do something stupid.”

 

Christen groans, letting her forehead fall onto Tobin’s shoulder. “You’re killing me, Tobin.”

 

“You keep saying that and yet you’re still here,” Tobin points out. Christen can hear the smile in her voice.

 

Christen lifts her head and levels Tobin with her best frustrated look, trying to convey just a fraction of what she feels. Every fiber of her being craves Tobin and she keeps getting turned down. She knows it’s for good reason, she just wishes she’d stopped drinking when she’d wanted to instead of when Kelley wanted her to. If that had been the case, she’d be able to be kissing Tobin right now instead of rolling off her with a frustrated sigh.

 

“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” Christen mumbles.

 

Tobin laughs and turns onto her side so she can kiss Christen’s cheek. “Are you regretting saying that now?”

 

“Of course not,” Christen insists. “I just wish you weren’t so noble right now.”

 

“Let’s go to sleep.”

 

Tobin turns the light off again, bathing them in darkness. Christen feels more comfortable like that, not being able to see the way Tobin’s staring at her hungrily. She can still feel it. She closes her eyes and pulls Tobin into her side, willing herself to fall asleep quickly so she won’t have to think about how dark Tobin’s eyes were the last time they locked.

 

“Tonight was a good night,” Tobin hums, nestling into Christen.

 

“It was,” Christen agrees. “I’m looking forward to even better ones, though.”

 

“Of course, darling.” Tobin’s voice is already laden heavily with sleep, her ability to fall asleep on a whim full on display. “Of course.”

 

Christen falls asleep gently, Tobin’s strong arm warm around her waist and head lying softly on her chest, rising and falling with every breath. Christen staves off sleep as long as she can, basking in the easiness of the last bit of time they have together before everything changes. She knows when she wakes in the morning everything will have even more weight than it already does.

 

She welcomes that.

 

She’s looking forward to that.

 

She’s been waiting a year for that and it can’t come soon enough.

 

Three days later, Tobin kisses Christen for the first time on a beach in California as the sun paints the sky as red as the dress Christen wears for their second date (second because even if it was a joke, Christen is a woman of her word.)

 

Her toes curl into the sand beneath her bare feet and her knees go weak, just as Tobin promised.


End file.
